The Same Kind of Problems
by x.CLAUDIA.x
Summary: What would happen if their was a crazy killer on the loose in Seattle? What would Charlie do to catch the killer? What would happen if everyone thought the killer was dead? What will the Cullens, Hales, and Swans do to protect each other? All human.


Disclaimer: I am not in any way shape or form Stephanie Meyer and I do not own Twilight or any of the chacters (but my Stephanie Meyer voodoo doll is coming in next tuesday so we'll see...)

"None of us are virgins, life has screwed us all"

I paced across the floor, through the window to my left you could see the street lights flickering. The only thing you could see out of the window was an abandoned fast food restaurant covered in rust. I held the crinkled note in my shaking hand as I stared out the window.

Dearest Pal,

Please, if I have ever asked you for anything, this is the most important. You have been my dearest friend for over 10 years. Please do this one last thing, follow my plan.

Goodbye-

A beloved friend

I was in a dark room with one naked light ball dangling over a small, brown rectangular desk. The desk had a black mesh organizer with white papers strewn across the desk, covering a small brown tape recorder and a knife. I leaned back into the cool black, leather chair the atmosphere just shrieked horror movie. As if to prove my point even more, I held an old cassette tape in my hand that read, "When Cows Attack", with "Unsolved" written in a blood red marker.

A computerized voice crackled on the tape recorder, "4-4-2004 Name: Officer Charlie. Mission: To find out who let the cows attack. I outlined my goatee curiously as a small child entered the room, my suspect." At this point the voice changed into the voice of the detective, "My suspect was about four feet tall, her pale face reminded me of a corpse, except she had wild eyes and black spiky hair. This girl was obviously insane, which made her suspect number one." As I listened to the tape, I would know the next voice in a heartbeat. It was high pitched, the kind that went along with bubblegum and pigtails.

'Hey! Don't say that about me, it's mean! Meany butt! What do you want anyway?'

"Uh! Ok little girl, I am narrating this thing, forget I said anything and -please- just tell me what happened when Darla died." Officer Chuck said exasperated.

"Okay. Well, it was the day of my aunt's wedding, and I just got out of bed. I went to the bathroom for a while, then I got out a delicious bowl of Cookie Crisp and ate it. Uhhh? -Oh- yeah so then I followed a bug until it went-'

"Ugh! Stop it! This joke had been used so, so many times before, and much better I'm afraid to say." I stopped the tape and chuckled darkly to myself, chuckled at the odds of this moment, me being here, alive, but I chuckled more at the innocence of the little girl, Alice I believe was her name.

"Well, sor-ry if my story bores you, that's what happened." The little girl said with a loud raspberry.

"Well, I never!"

Bzz…. The tape fast forwarded as I thought about the idiot, the buffoon, the fool to think Officer Charlie would ever catch the man behind this devious plan. Of course I knew him, the killer, he was a brother to me, my only friend. My friend who just happened to be more or less lethal than the Grim Reaper himself. I knew I wasn't on the smarter scale, like Officer Charlie, but to believe that he couldn't get away with just one of his many murders was just flat out insane.

"There he is; get him!"

The lights flickered brighter as I snapped back to reality, were I sat suspiciously in a cop's office. Men in black surrounded the area like in a movie. I stood with my back against a wall. Needless to say, they had me cornered, and from the looks on their faces, they knew I knew the information. The information everybody wanted, the information that people cried, sweat, and swore over.

"What happened to Darla?" One brave cop yelled.

"No one should ever know," I cracked through the new muck of intensity. The long silence that followed seemed to comfort me, instead of make me twitch or impatient.

"Tell us or I'll shoot. Either way, kid, this ends tonight," The impatient cop raised a gun to my eye level. I shuffled to the side, and took the knife gingerly off the desk as my eyes stayed glued to the black hole of the gun.

A mystery so vile, so nasty, so utterly gruesome, no one should ever know who really killed Darla, and let out the cows, no one.

"No one," my lips trembled, though I knew the cop was right, it would end tonight, all I had to make a choice. I had to tell them what they thought they wanted to know or die. I knew the two sides flawlessly. I knew the perks and the dire consequences if I told them. The consequences that left me with a handful of restless nights, filled of dreaming torture and developing mental scars. These boys, though older than me by years would never know the things I've done, things I've seen. These boys that so bravely surrounded me would have taken this new information, that someone they loved, cherished, respected was a killer… Well, let's just say they would have taken it worse than I. They would have responded with terror-filled, high-pitched, glass-shattering screams until they succumbed to the grief. They would have been in idolizing torture while they let this pain take over them like a deathly virus. The perks might not have been worth it; the money, the glory, the girls. Okay, maybe not girls, but still it was worth it. I was sure.

After long thought my choice was clear, there was no need to draw it out any longer, someone would die, internal, or external, whether it be a cop or Daisy Duke. It was all the same, death, death is … well, not fascinating but more interesting. Death by murder, suicide, or mere age was it all the same. So although one standing would be lost, would I be the bad guy. If it was all the same, dying any way, I wouldn't be doing wrong because they would have died eventually. So the question remains, is murder all that different from other ways of dying? No, it was all the same, we were all just pawns in this crazy little game of death. The nerves I had because of my decision must have struck this epiphany. Despite my promise to keep this choice and my actions concise, I had to realize the one thing that the human mind does not wish to visit, the understanding of death. I had to be the one to realize it. Quite ironic, don't you think.

So, with my new motive clear, I forced my hand tighter around my new weapon, my tense knuckles around the knife cried out in excruciating pain. Shock, disgust, fright and the other millions of emotions could have -should have- trailed across the faces in front of me as they realized what the heck I was doing.

I took a step back and lounged forward, knife in hand. Gasps evoked out of all mouths. I would never have a last gasp, for by the time the blood from my heart poured down to my knees, I knew I was dead. Now all I had to do was sink into unconsciousness for the final time.

A dark-red, goopy pool lay on the wooden floor. "Goodbye- A beloved friend" was all that was visible through the massive red slush, that scattered across the wooden floor.


End file.
